


Timeless

by lost_stickie_note



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: #stickieallover, Angst, Angst angst angst angst angst, Chengcheng and Justin being brats, Childhood Friends, Don't expect a "happy" ending, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Haven't abandoned the NPC ficdom yet -sobs-, Heavy Angst, I almost literally forgot to add Yanchen even though he appears in this chapter, I miss them all so damn much, I probably forgot others damnit, Lemon, Love Triangles, M/M, Meaningless Sex, Smut, Wenjun is in love and it hurts real bad, Will tag more later once my brain starts working again, Zeren the only one with braincells, Zhengting is why we can't have nice things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note
Summary: Sometimes Wenjun wishes it washislove story. But make no mistake, it isn't.
Relationships: Bi Wenjun/Zhu Zhengting | Jung Jung, Cai Xukun/Zhu Zhengting | Jung Jung
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	Timeless

**Author's Note:**

> I miss being an NPC writer, so much. ♡ This has literally been sitting in my drafts for the longest time. The only reason why is because I haven't written the second chapter in its entirety yet, and I was afraid there might be timeline inconsistencies. But I really wanted to share this anyways. One of the plots I've had in my head forever, probably one of the angst-iest ones I've come up with.
> 
> I appreciate anyone who may read this to be honest. Apologies in advance for hurting Wenjun all the damn time. This will probably be one of my favorite things that I've written ever by the time I get to the end (if all the plot comes out as well as it does in my head).
> 
> Smut warning, but you all probably expected that. ♡ Please enjoy.
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> 

Wenjun has always believed in fairy tales.

How could he not when he grew up with Zhengting?

The older boy was everything fairy tales are made of, all bright eyes filled with the promise of greater things, blinding smiles that were made to dazzle a crowd, and an insistent charm that made the other boys fall over themselves to do whatever he asked. He could never figure out how it happened, but Zhengting, little Zhengting who was a thin, spindly child had the presence to capture an audience, his back nimrod straight, the impeccable posture of a dancer ingrained into his body. It wasn’t even that Zhengting got whatever he wanted. It always turned out that everyone wanted _exactly_ what Zhengting wanted, so really, everyone ended up happy in the end.

Everyone except Wenjun.

He had craved the chance just _once_ to play the prince for Zhengting when they were little, wanting to be the older boy’s everything, the one to sweep him off his feet in an impossibly grand gesture of rescuing him from the castle. But Zhengting always insisted that Wenjun be his trusty right-hand man, his shining knight in armor, sworn to protect Zhengting at all costs, an allegiance that ensured he would remain by the older boy’s side forever. And so he was relegated to this role time and time again, the uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest each time Zhengting picked another boy to save him.

Not that Zhengting needed saving, of course.

In fact, Wenjun had come to realize over the years that it was the other boys that needed saving _from_ Zhengting, the older boy breaking a new heart every other week in high school and then later on in college. All the while Wenjun felt the tightness in his chest grow bigger and bigger until perhaps it doesn’t even take a new boyfriend to trigger it, the pain hollowing out his insides and burrowing an endless hole into his chest so that he needs to carry the emptiness around every day, every minute, every second. A constant reminder of the boy he’s destined to stay beside, watching silently as the stream of suitors parade in front of Zhengting hopeful of being picked.

He never knew emptiness could feel so heavy.

Years later and nothing has changed.

\---

“Hey, Princess.”

Wenjun winces, turning around at the sound of the voice coming from behind them, someone further back in the line, prepared for the terrible scene that is about to unfold as Zhengting gives the poor boy who dares use the nickname the worst tongue-lashing of his life. Sure enough, Zhengting’s voice is two octaves too shrill as the accusatory words come out clipped and frosty. “Excuse me?” _Oh boy._ He can already feel the invoked sympathy taking hold as he sees his best friend’s face to go along with the words, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, his normally plump and permanently pouty lips flattened into a thin line of dissatisfaction.

“Princess, you’re holding up the line. Make up your mind.”

Wenjun can see the anger bubbling just underneath the surface of his friend’s saccharine sweet façade, the smile stretched just slightly too tightly over his face, the clench in his jaw so small that only he would notice it. “I can take however long I need to order, thank you very much.”

He finally catches sight of the boy who had spoken, a few people back, his arms crossed over his chest and a faint tinge of amusement wrapped up in the smirk written all over his face. A grey peacoat over a black hoodie and dark jeans running down long legs until they reach a pair of Converse, the other boy’s bleakly colored outfit a sharp contrast to his delighted expression and blonde-dyed hair. “There’s a whole line back here waiting to grab their morning coffee. All waiting on you, _Princess_.”

The color in Zhengting’s cheeks visibly rises a couple of notches, and Wenjun is truly afraid the older boy is going to lose it in a few seconds, and he quickly intervenes, his hand resting on Zhengting’s shoulder soothingly. “Come on, ‘Ting. Not worth your time right now. We need to get to class.”

Zhengting begrudgingly turns away at the sound of Wenjun’s voice, his bottom lip still engraved into a half-scowl, the one that the older boy has when he’s trying not to show his annoyance, a face Wenjun knows all too well having seen it directed towards so many other people. “Fine.” The older boy whips back around to face the cashier who has a semi-traumatized look on her face, eyes darting back and forth between them and the other boy nervously. “I’ll have a vanilla cappuccino with a half-shot of espresso with soy milk, none of that sugary syrupy stuff with whipped cream on top, iced.” Zhengting wrinkles his nose in displeasure. “But not too much ice. I don’t want my drink to be watered down.”

Wenjun sighs as the poor girl frantically taps in Zhengting’s order, his friend tapping the edge of his credit card on the counter impatiently. “Did you get all that?”

Her voice comes out in a small squeak. “That’ll be 6 dollars.”

Zhengting hands his card over before turning to shoot another glare past his shoulder towards the other boy. “Let’s go, ‘Jun.”

\---

The other boy is still grumbling about how absolutely _awful_ that other boy was six hours later when they’re passing the joint back and forth in Zhengting’s dorm. “He doesn’t know me. What gives him the right to call me _princess_?” Wenjun shakes his head as Zhengting dissolves into a fit of coughing after inhaling too quickly, snatching the joint from his friend and taking a long drag instead of answering. He hates when the older boy gets like this, blowing even the slightest thing out of proportion with him taking the brunt of the outraged ranting afterwards. He sighs as he feels the high coming on, the sound of Zhengting’s voice fading away in his head, all his focus narrowing on the other boy’s lips, and for perhaps the millionth time in his life, Wenjun wonders what would happen if he just kissed Zhengting to shut him up.

He had wanted to sleep early tonight, having a calculus exam the next day, tired after hours of studying hard, but Zhengting had texted him _Wanna come over._ with those stupid little text hearts afterwards. The older boy never asks questions over text, just throws out statements like he just expects everyone to agree, the infuriating period at the end of his demand driving Wenjun crazy. But he spends too long staring at those dumbass hearts, cursing himself for letting the feeling of hope well up in his chest. Especially when Zhengting sends them with almost every text. _Home <3\. Call me ‘Jun <3\. Let’s get food <3._

Wenjun hates himself for falling for it.

“Helloooo, earth to Wenjun. Are you even listening?” Wenjun startles as Zhengting snaps his fingers in front of his face.

“To tell you the truth, not really ‘Ting. You’ve been going on and on about this guy forever. I think you just need to let it go.”

Wenjun closes his eyes so he doesn’t need to see the annoyance on his best friend’s face, but when he opens them, the glare still hasn’t gone away. And he’s about to apologize when the loud sound of knocking and an angry-beyond-belief voice fills the tiny room. “Goddamnit, Zhengting, are you smoking in the bathroom again? I need to take a fucking shower, and it’s a Wednesday night. I have an exam tomorrow. What’s wrong with you?”

Zhengting’s face collapses into a rueful grin. “Shit, I forgot, Zeren. Coming right out.”

They open the door to a very angry Zeren, an almost comical sight since the other boy is also wearing a fluffy purple bathrobe, and Wenjun has to try hard to stifle his laughter. Zeren rolls his eyes when he sees Wenjun. “Figures that you’d be here, Wenjun. But really? You have that calc exam with me tomorrow.”

His best friend pulls Zeren into a hug, laughing. “Oh, Zeren, what would we do without you?”

“Probably be dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“You love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.” Zeren notes drily, shooting another glare at Zhengting who has the audacity to put on his best innocent face, blinking his large doe-eyes slowly in a silent plea for forgiveness. Zeren sighs in acquiesce. “Just get out of the bathroom, ‘Ting.”

Zhengting smooches Zeren on the cheek. “I’ll make you eggs in the morning before your exam, okay ‘Ren?”

“Yeah, yeah. And I’ll take that.” Zhengting groans when Zeren takes the joint but quickly shuts up when Zeren glares at them.

“Okay, fine.”

Wenjun follows the other boy to his bedroom, Zhengting practically dragging him there, the older boy’s hand warm against his, and he hates that he can feel every little touch from Zhengting like explosions of pure longing against his skin. _Shit._ He hates being high around Zhengting, the older boy always forgetting that fucking personal _boundaries_ exist. But he lets Zhengting do it, lets the other boy run his hand teasingly, mindlessly up his inner thigh, along the material of his seemingly-too-tight jeans as they lie on his bed together, staring up at the ceiling. Zhengting doesn’t mean it, he really doesn’t, and Wenjun forgives him every time. But he still wishes that the older boy isn’t so goddamn _touchy_ all the time, wishes that Zhengting isn’t so okay with touching him like it means absolutely nothing even though it sets every inch of him on fire until he feels like he might burn into a nothingness.

“God, he was so fucking annoying.”

The moment is broken, and Wenjun sits up, suddenly irritated beyond belief for a reason that he can’t explain. “Why are you still even talking about him, ‘Ting? It’s over already. Just shut up, okay?”

Zhengting gives him a hurt expression, one that almost makes Wenjun regret it. Almost. But not really. The twinge of satisfaction makes him happier than it should. _I can hurt you too._ “What’s wrong, ‘Jun? I just want to blow off some steam.”

“Well, blow off steam a different way other than bitching to me for hours about something truly insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”

The older boy’s hurt expression intensifies for a split second before Zhengting’s face is overtaken by a mischievous grin, one corner of his mouth curled up lopsidedly, an eyebrow raised. “I have another way to blow off steam.” Wenjun watches as everything happens in slow-motion, Zhengting getting up off the bed, turning to face him, dropping to his knees, and all Wenjun can really see is the smirk on Zhengting’s face. And the older boy is doing it again, both hands on the inside of either one of his thighs, parting them nonchalantly all while not once looking away from him.

“What the fuck, Zhengting.”

The older boy’s voice is lilting, yet sultry at the same time, somehow managing to sound innocent when Wenjun knows that Zhengting is anything but. Because Zhengting knows e _xactly_ what he’s doing when he stares up at guys from below with his wide eyes and slightly parted lips, his upper teeth coming down to bite his lower lip in a small pout, his tongue darting out the corner. “What? You said to blow off steam another way, remember?” Wenjun gasps, a small whimper coming out involuntarily, as the older boy palms his growing erection in his hand over his jeans. “Maybe you need to blow off some steam too. You’ve been so irritated all day. When’s the last time someone got you off?”

Wenjun can’t bring himself to tell the other boy that his annoyance is entirely due to Zhengting himself. Or the fact that the last time someone blew him was when his entire acapella group got completely shit-faced after a competition, and Wenjun had ended up making out with Ruibin in the hotel suite bathroom for privacy, the rest of the members squeezed into the room in some sort of pseudo-orgy, riding the high from taking first place. He had not lasted long with Ruibin eagerly sucking his cock and had embarrassingly pulled out sooner than he should have, finishing all over Ruibin’s face, surprising the older boy and leading to a very awkward morning the next day.

“Can’t remember, ‘Ting. But-“ Wenjun moans as he feels Zhengting’s hands against the skin just above his waistline, the older boy’s fingers already deftly working on unzippering his jeans. “Shouldn’t-shouldn’t do this.” The last word cracks on his lips as he feels Zhengting grab his cock, thumb brushing over the tip, already leaking precum from just Zhengting _touching me_ , and Wenjun grits his teeth angrily, the flush heating his face. Anger at himself for being so _goddamn weak_ , but it is Zhengting, and Wenjun can’t think of anyone else who could have survived the last 8 years or so alongside the other boy without breaking.

Watching in embarrassment as stupidly confident teen Zhengting tried to “teach” him how to suck cock one summer, his face arranged in picturesque arousal, half-lidded eyes, eyelashes longer than he remembered, pretty pink lips firmly around the popsicle. And he had watched in rapt attention as Zhengting sucked almost the whole thing in, a seemingly impossible feat, his lips a few centimeters from the base. Wenjun had thought it was the most beautiful sight as Zhengting laughed afterwards, his tongue stained a shade of lime-green that he would never forget. He was dumb enough to think it was for him, only broken by the salacious wink Zhengting gave the captain of the soccer team after putting on a show. But that didn’t stop Wenjun from beating off while imagining it was his cock in between the older boy’s lips instead for the next few weeks. Even when it killed him hearing Zhengting talk about just how _good_ the team captain was in bed.

Giving in and letting Zhengting go to their school’s big dance with him as his date when the older boy broke up with his boyfriend a few weeks prior after a huge fight. Feeling the lump in this throat as Zhengting walked through his front door looking like a teenage dream straight out of a high school rom-com and hesitantly looping his arm around Zhengting’s waist as his parents cooed and took pictures of the two of them, the older boy with his dazzling smile and Wenjun with his reserved one. Zhengting had gotten completely wasted at the dance, sneaking in alcohol with a rebellious grin, and Wenjun hadn’t even realized how stupid he was until he went to find a bathroom, and he could hear Zhengting before even opening the door, begging his ex-boyfriend to fuck him _hard_ in a voice Wenjun could only ever hear in his dreams. He had never wanted to punch someone so badly as he watched that jackass accept the title of prom king as Zhengting stared at him from the crowd next to Wenjun with stars in his eyes.

He still has the picture of Zhengting and him from that night in his wallet, carrying around a perfect image of a hopeless dream everywhere with him.

Being woken up at four in the morning by drunken Zhengting banging on his dorm door loudly and rushing to answer so his roommates didn’t kill him the next day. And letting the older boy strip off all his clothes, everything except for his boxers, all sharp angles, the lines of Zhengting’s abdominal muscles and hip bones carved into his brain, before tensing up as the older boy climbed into his bed, smelling of alcohol and sex, smelling of _someone else_. Because Wenjun knows exactly how Zhengting smells after so many years of sleeping in each other’s beds, childhood sleepovers, crashing at each other’s places after parties, cuddling for hours with Wenjun comforting the older boy after a break-up. And this isn’t it. He hates that he can smell Zhengting’s one-night stand on his sheets the morning after, doesn’t know why he lets Zhengting crawl into his bed over and over again after fucking another boy that’s not him.

_Because I fucking love him._

Even if it hurts him just to breathe when he’s around Zhengting.

“Why not?”

_Because I’ve been in love with you since I was 7, and fucking you won’t solve the problem, won’t fix it, won’t fix **me**._

But Zhengting is looking up at him with a smile, the smile Wenjun fell in love with when he still thought he could be the one to save Zhengting from the castle guarded by the fire-breathing dragon in a world of make-believe, and all Wenjun can think about is the older boy’s lime-green tongue and a world in which he can taste it. And the _why not_ rolls around in his head, chasing itself around in his thoughts, and maybe there is no good reason why he shouldn’t take every chance he can get to be with Zhengting even if he knows it’s false. Because even if Zhengting will never be his, he’ll still have all these little moments for himself. And maybe it’s worth it to have these fleeting flashes of pure joy well up in his chest, even if it means he’ll wake up the next day hating himself, the weight of his love twice as heavy as before.

_Why the fuck not?_

Wenjun lets out a resigned sigh, and that’s all the encouragement Zhengting needs to take his cock into his mouth, the feeling of the older boy’s tongue making him see stars, the bright lights dancing on the backs of his closed eyelids as takes every bit of him and more. He curls his fingers in the older boy’s hair, tugging gently and then harder when Zhengting moans in appreciation over his cock, the vibration making the coiled white-hot pleasure rush through his veins when he hits the back of the other boy’s throat. And Zhengting’s hands are imprinting on his skin, running over his hips and waist and stomach, his thumb dipping into the hollow of his belly button, the unexpected touch making him arch his hips off the bed in surprise at the exact wrong moment when Zhengting is bobbing his head downwards, the older boy gagging on his cock.

He wonders if Zhengting realizes that he would give up everything for him or whether Zhengting would even care.

Wenjun can’t tell whether the thought makes him more angry or hurt, the two emotions whirling together, making him lightheaded and dizzy, grabbing all the oxygen from his lungs. “Fuck, ‘Ting, get off.” The older boy doesn’t hear him, continuing to vigorously blow him, clearly enjoying the challenge. Wenjun tugs hard at Zhengting’s hair, and the loud pop echoes in the room as the older boy releases his cock, and his heart clenches at how Zhengting looks with his lips shiny and pink, a stray strand of saliva running from the older boy’s mouth to his cock, looking absolutely wrecked.

And beautiful.

In that moment, Wenjun doesn’t even care anymore about tomorrow. He just wants, no, _needs_ to show Zhengting that he can be the older boy’s everything, that he can be better, do better than all those boys that left Zhengting a sobbing mess in his arms. His voice is hoarse and cracked with a longing that he hopes Zhengting dismisses as arousal. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed, Zhengting. On all fours.”

The older boy’s laughter sounds sharp and tinny in his ears, like a warning of bad things to come, and Wenjun watches, his tongue coming out to lick his lips anxiously, his throat dry, as Zhengting starts stripping off his clothes slowly and sexily in front of him, arching his back in a perfect curve as he crosses his arms to lift his shirt over his head, the motion making his stomach tense, the grooves of his abs to sharpen. The older boy peels off his tight skinny jeans slowly, and Wenjun inhales sharply as Zhengting’s hip bones come into view, the hip bones he’s pictured a million times in his head, raking his gaze over the other boy’s body. The inhaled breath catches in his throat as Zhengting slides everything down before straightening up, completely naked.

“’Ting, what the fuck?”

The dark ink lies in sharp contrast to the older boy’s pale milky skin, and Wenjun stares at the elaborate and ornate lettering on Zhengting’s skin, the letters bleeding on to the other boy’s hip and drifting dangerously low on his groin. “When the fuck did the tattoo happen?”

Zhengting looks down in surprise as if he doesn’t remember what he’s willingly gotten carved into his own skin. “Oh this? A couple of weeks ago. I was going to tell you after it healed up properly. It’s still not quite fully there.”

“What does it say?” Wenjun squints, trying to make out the words but not quite succeeding.

“Mr. Nice.” Zhengting giggles.

He doesn’t hear anything else the older boy says over the roaring in his ears.

_Mr. Nice._

Wenjun doesn’t understand why the world has decided that his life should be the center of some cosmic universal joke. Because nice is the absolute last thing Zhengting is. Or else the older boy wouldn’t insist on setting him up on blind dates after he says he’s not interested, only to hook up with that very same boy a few weeks later at a party. And he wouldn’t “accidentally” post his profile to a dating site, resulting in a flood of unwanted suitors that he had to reject, resulting in awkward looks when he saw those people on campus. Most of all, if Zhengting was _actually_ nice, maybe the older boy would finally notice that Wenjun has been in love with him since forever instead of treating sex with him just as a fun way to pass the time.

And all Wenjun wants is to fuck Zhengting, fuck the older boy until it doesn’t hurt him anymore, until the moment Zhengting touches him and he feels nothing at all.

“Get on the bed, Zhengting.”

Zhengting grins at him before complying. “Your wish is my command, Wenjun.”

_Love me, Zhengting._

Wenjun spends a few moments admiring the sight of the older boy bent over on his hands and knees in front of him, Zhengting’s ass high in the air and quivering slightly, his thighs spread apart eagerly, toned from his years of dancing. And the other boy’s puckered opening is already clenching in anticipation, a prettier sight than Wenjun has ever seen anywhere else, in real life or in the shitty porn vids he watches wishing for better things. _I wonder how many other boys have seen him like this._ And the sharp hurt rises in his chest as he thinks about how he has never been and never will be Zhengting’s first choice no matter how much greater his love for the other boy is.

The desperation surges through him as he presses his tongue up against the other boy’s opening, the years of wanting welling up inside him. And the pinpricks of cruel satisfaction when he hears Zhengting fall apart in his hands, moaning in pleasure, his face pressed into his pillow to muffle the noise. The older boy gasps as he tracks his tongue in circles, dipping in slightly to the delight of Zhengting, who starts squirming in his hands, his grip tightening over the older boy’s hips, brushing over the sensitive skin of Zhengting’s still-new-ish tattoo, the unfortunate words burned into his mind. And Wenjun hooks his fingers over the older boy’s sharp hip bones as he first thrusts in, making Zhengting gasp with pleasure as he buries himself over and over again in the older boy’s ass with a bruising intensity. Enjoying the sound of his name on Zhengting’s lips more than he should as the older boy begs to be filled. So Wenjun does. Again and again until he has nothing left to give.

It isn’t until the next morning when he wakes up in his own bed, the gritty feeling of sex all over his skin, the clothes from last night still sticking to his body disgustingly, that he realizes that they didn’t look each other in the eye even once while fucking.

\---

“You look like complete fucking shit.” Zeren hisses at him as the papers for the exam are being passed out.

Wenjun is about to make up an excuse when Zeren switches into a full-on glare. “Don’t bother. I _know_ what happened. I have goddamn ears, for fuck’s sake, and my bed is _l-i-t-e-r-a-l-l-y_ up against the same wall as Zhengting’s bed.” Zeren stretches out the word for emphasis, his eyebrows knit together threatening. “Christ, what were you thinking, you dumbass?”

And he really wants to defend himself, he does, but Zeren’s next words make a wave of shame wash through him. “Justin and Chengcheng barely survived Zhengting’s last break-up. Chengcheng, idiot that he is, bless his soul, is lucky they didn’t kick him out of school after trying to beat that boy up. Not to mention, dragging Justin along for the ride. Do you even know what’s going to happen if you and Zhengting can’t stand being in the same room? Do you? Quanzhe is going to cry for _weeks_.”

Zeren spits the next words out with more vitriol than Wenjun thought possible. “You selfish prick. I expected this shit from Zhengting, but not from you.”

The other boy turns around before he can respond, the professor at the front of the lecture hall calling for silence so they can begin. And all he can think about during the whole exam is how royally he has fucked up that every calculus concept that he had studied flies out of his head the instant he needs to recall it. Even worse, when Wenjun sneaks a glance over, Zeren is writing non-stop, absolutely blowing through the exam seemingly with ease. Halfway through the allotted time, and Wenjun decides there is no point in attempting to finish, the paper in front of him with barely any answers on it, just full of illegible scrawls. He hands in his paper early, unfinished, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of Zeren burning a hole in his back with a glare. His fingers automatically skate over his phone to send a text to Zhengting. _Done with exam. Wanna meet up?_ He receives a lot of enthusiasm in return, and five minutes later Wenjun finds himself walking towards Zhengting’s favorite coffee shop in what can only be described as a stab of insanity. _I must be some sort of fucking masochist._ Because he knows better, knows Zhengting better, and in the interest of self-preservation, Wenjun knows he should be running as fast as possible in the opposite direction before the trainwreck unfolds in front of him.

But he goes anyway.

All he can hear are the echoes of last night when he sees Zhengting, all he can see is the older boy’s skin underneath his hands, marveling at the way Zhengting feels every little thing running through his body. Wenjun can’t see the other boy’s eyes, half of Zhengting’s face hidden behind huge shades, and he only sees his reflection staring back at him. “Hey ‘Jun. You finished faster than I thought. Thank God though. Gave me a good excuse to cut class a bit early. This professor is an absolute snoozefest.”

And that’s it.

Zhengting starts prattling on about some new guy in his class that he’s interested in, some exchange student or another that might be joining the dance team, apparently someone to be excited because the boy can do a full split and is _flexible_ says Zhengting along with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrow. But Wenjun only half-listens, the words going in one ear and out the other, the space in his head too preoccupied with more and more self-loathing as each second goes by, and he realizes they’re not going to talk about it. Not going to talk about how he fucked Zhengting to orgasm twice last night as the older boy screamed his name. Or how it’s a bad idea to fuck his best friend, especially when he’s in love with Zhengting.

He’s still in a haze when they sit down, him with his Americano and Zhengting with his usual mess of an order with far too many alterations and additions. He doesn’t snap out of it until the voice, the familiar teasing edge in its sharpness.

“Hey Princess.”

Zhengting immediately bristles, his face settling into a sour expression as he looks up at the boy. “What are you doing here? Are you following us around or something?”

The other boy glances around the coffee shop, an amused smirk on his face. “Last I checked, this was a coffee shop. And I wanted coffee.”

The older boy grimaces. “There are a million coffee shops on campus.”

“This place has the best coffee as you’ve probably realized since you seem like the type of anal person that has tried every place around to pick the best possible one.” The other boy grins cockily. “And I mean, anal person in every possible way, Princess.”

Wenjun watches as Zhengting’s face struggles to rearrange itself into a pleased and offended look at the same time. “You don’t know anything about me.”

And he doesn’t understand what happens next, the other boy leaning down to whisper something into Zhengting’s ear, and Wenjun feels the jealousy rise up as this boy presses his cheek up close, far more intimate than necessary, and Zhengting’s expression goes slack, his mouth gaping open in a perfect circle of surprise, speechless.

No one has ever been able to render Zhengting speechless.

“Excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.” His best friend’s voice is shaky, and Wenjun watches him walk away, wondering if he should go after Zhengting.

“So, how are you and the Princess related?” The other boy slides into Zhengting’s seat as if he belongs there, looking at him with curious eyes. “You don’t seem like the type to hang out with someone like him.”

Wenjun doesn’t know whether it’s the assumption that annoys him or the fact that it might be true, but the words come out a lot more defensive than he intends. “You don’t know anything about Zhengting.”

The boy taps the table with his index finger absentmindedly. “Funny, that’s the second time I’ve been told that in the last ten minutes.”

He feels the need to explain himself, the words tumbling out in a mess. “His parents wouldn’t let him have pets when he was growing up so he went and volunteered at the pet shelter after school every week in high school. When he watches romance movies, he always acts like he isn’t crying at all the sad parts even when everyone can hear him sniffling. Justin’s parents got divorced a while back, and Zhengting bought an extra gift every year after that for his birthday. He once stood up to a boy twice his size because he wouldn’t stop taking Chengcheng’s lunch money even though he knew he’d get beaten to a pulp.” The lump rises in Wenjun’s chest as he talks. “Zhengting may have some flaws, but he is loyal to a fault and is not nearly as bad as you think. So just fuck off.”

“He’s the one that organizes the fundraiser for the animal shelter down the street every year, isn’t he?” Wenjun can’t stop the shocked expression from making its way on to his face at this stranger knowing far more about Zhengting than he had let on. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not completely out of the loop. Zhengting’s not exactly low-key.” The other boy splits into a huge grin. “Oh, looks like Princess is coming back from the bathroom. Gonna leave before he tries to bite my head off. My name is Xukun by the way, if he asks.”

“What makes you think he’s going to ask?”

Xukun doesn’t answer Wenjun before leaving.

“Where did that guy end up going?” Wenjun looks up to see Zhengting with a frown on his face. “Did he happen to tell you his name?”

“Xukun.”

“Xukun.” Zhengting repeats the name slowly as if he wants to savor the taste.

\---

“Why don’t you just confess already?” Wenjun glares at the other boy occupying his bed. “I mean, your dumb crush so _obvious_ that it’s hard to believe ‘Ting hasn’t figured it out by now.”

“Yeah,” The second boy pipes up. “We’re tired of waiting for you two to get together already. It’s been _ages_ , and we want to know who’s going to be the best man at your wedding. It’s definitely me, right? Not Chengcheng?”

Wenjun throws a throw cushion at Justin, narrowly missing the younger boy as he ducks. “Shut up. I don’t need advice from you two brats.”

Zeren glares at both Justin and Chengcheng. “Why are you two here anyway? Don’t you have classes to be at?”

Both reply in unison. “Skipping.”

Zeren’s glare intensifies. “Again? Why can’t you two just be good like Quanzhe? Always making trouble.” He pauses before continuing angrily. “And stop bothering Wenjun. If he doesn’t want to confess, then he doesn’t need to.” Zeren sneaks a side glance at him. “And _for the record_ , neither of you would be the best man because Wenjun wouldn’t want to have either of you in charge of anything important.” The other boy lets out a snort of derision. “You both would probably end up setting the venue on fire somehow.”

Wenjun groans. “Can you all remind me why _any of you_ are at my place at all?”

“Justin and I were bored. And Zhengting isn’t around, Xinchun wouldn’t let us in, Quanzhe’s in classes, so we followed Zeren here.” Chengcheng rolls his eyes. “But we didn’t know that you two were going to be boring and do homework.”

“You two, get out. And stop stalking me. Now.” Justin is about to protest but shrinks under Zeren’s gaze. “Fine, we’ll leave, but you owe us ice cream, Zeren.” And before the older boy can object, Chengcheng and Justin are gone, the door slamming behind them, the loud noise making Wenjun’s headache intensify.

“I already know what you’re going to say, Zeren.” Wenjun looks at his friend helplessly. “I fucked up, okay? I know it already, so if you just came over to yell at me, please, just give me a break. I have all this shit I need to finish and my head’s been hurting since 3, and just-“

Zeren’s scowl softens into a resigned look. “Just so you know, you’re such a dumbshit.”

“I know.”

“He’s just going to break your heart, Wenjun.”

“Ha, ha. How can he break it if it’s already broken?” Wenjun jokes, the sentiment dissolving into nervous laughter when Zeren doesn’t crack a smile at all.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” Zeren sighs, giving him a pointed look. “And I promise you that it’s a _when_ not an _if_.”

“Maybe it won’t happen.” Zeren’s skeptical look doesn’t go away, instead the accompanying frown just deepening the furrows in his forehead.

“Just be careful, Wenjun. I care about you. We _all_ care about you.” Zeren taps his index finger on the desk pointedly. “Well, are you going to talk to him about it? Or are you just going to simmer in self-loathing forever until you become that bitter old man that yells at kids for fun?”

“Not sure yet.” His stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought of confronting Zhengting and telling the truth. _I’ve been in love with you for years and want to be the one that stays by your side forever._ The thought is so outrageous that Wenjun involuntarily snorts aloud. As if Zhengting would be the type to stay with one person for the rest of his life. None of Zhengting’s relationships had managed to last beyond six months, most of them ending when Zhengting got bored or the other boy getting burnt-out far too quickly. “I don’t want to think about it. I just need to get through finishing these assignments.”

“Best case scenario, Zhengting falls madly in love with you, and the two of you ride off into a sunset on a unicorn together. Worst case scenario, you two end up hating each other and will end up having joint custody of our friend group.” Zeren pauses. “And maybe it drives both Justin and Chengcheng into being the little delinquents they are halfway there to becoming anyway.” Another pause. “But no pressure or anything.”

Wenjun groans.

\---

_Lunch. <3_

Wenjun stares at the innocuous message popping up in his notifications. _Zhengting again._ It’s not like he is _trying_ to avoid the other boy, but he hadn’t exactly been going out of his way to hang out with Zhengting for the past week, feeling off-kilter whenever he is with the older boy, too many words that he wants to say but can’t, creating a gulf of silence between them. _It’s because we had sex._ Wenjun screams into his pillow, lamenting literally the worst decision of his entire life. Or not decision, but rather a cock-driven-spur-of-the-moment-whim that may have cost him a life’s worth of inner peace.

Absolutely fucking great.

_I miss you ‘Jun. <3_

The _miss_ is like a little stab in the heart, and Wenjun kicks himself internally for wishing it said _love_ instead. Those goddamn stupid text hearts. They make him irrational and far too giddy when he knows they mean nothing. The knock on his room door startles him out of his reverie, Zeren’s face popping up into view. Wenjun swears that the other boy is omniscient sometimes. “How did you get in?”

“I have your spare, remember?” _Oh right._ “Zhengting told me to come fetch you in person.” Zeren rolls his eyes. “Apparently, it’s important. But knowing him, important just means another boy he won’t remember the name of in a month or two. The only reason I _actually_ agreed to get you is because we need to start planning Xinchun’s birthday party, which is coming up soon. Zhengting wants to do some weird themed thing this year.”

Zeren shoots him a sympathetic look. “You know, you should stop avoiding Zhengting. He’s eventually going to go ballistic on you if you keep this up. I don’t think he’s used to not having you around at the drop of a hat, and it’s driving him just a tiny bit nuts.” The empathy switches quickly into a critical glare. “And by association, driving _me_ nuts as his roommate.”

“Fine.”

Zhengting acts like he hasn’t seen Wenjun in decades, flouncing up to him decked out in a…well, he’s not quite sure, but the older boy looks so good that Wenjun swears his life is a tragedy. He wonders how Zhengting’s hair always manages to look so fluffy and soft, the urge to bury his face in it while wrapping the older boy into a backhug all too overwhelming. “Wenjuuuuun, you came.” Zhengting spouts excitedly, the lollipop rolling around in his mouth as he speaks. He can’t help but stare at the other boy’s lips, plump and pink, wrapped perfectly around the candy. “Oh, do you want a lick?” Zhengting gives a particularly hard suck, the loud _pop!_ making his cheeks heat up with embarrassment, not needing another reminder of just how pretty Zhengting looked with his cock in his mouth. “Uhhh, no thanks, ‘Ting.”

“No, try it.” Zhengting whines, his eyebrows drawn together into a frown. “It’s a new flavor, one of those rotational seasonal flavors, a _sakura_ blossoms one. I’m not sure whether I’m like _in love_ with it.”

And Wenjun can’t refuse, not when Zhengting is already nudging the pink-colored candy against his lips, and he reluctantly opens his mouth to accept. It tastes sweet, the slightest hint of spring, and feels smooth against his tongue, and all Wenjun can think about is how just a moment ago, it was slicked completely with Zhengting’s spit, being sucked into Zhengting’s mouth, warm and inviting. To his horror, the thought makes his cock twitch as if there is something to anticipate. _When there is most decidedly not._ He tries to chase the image away, and thankfully, the moment ends quickly, Zhengting taking his lollipop back. “Do you like the flavor?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks on the word, and Wenjun winces, hoping Zhengting doesn’t ask. “What did you want to see me for?”

“Oh, that.” The older boy’s face brightens, holding out the outfit gathered in his arms. “Pictures. The cultural club wants nice pictures to put on the poster to advertise the festival next week, and I volunteered you to do it with me.” Wenjun gapes at the other boy in disbelief. “I’m not even part of your club.”

An exaggerated eye roll. “It doesn’t matter. They just want it to look good, and they thought you and I would look the nicest dressed up.” Zhengting thrusts out his lower lip into his signature pretty-please-just-do-what-I-want pout. “Come on, I already promised. It’s just a few pictures, and you look _ah-maz-ing_ in traditional-type clothes like this.” Wenjun sighs, feeling his resolve weakening just like every other time.

“You two look like the cutest couple.” Wenjun tugs uncomfortable at the material bunched up around his waist, cringing at the loud-pitched squeal coming from the photographer, who, in his opinion, has already snapped far too many pictures, the flash from the camera making him blink incessantly. _Couple._ The word makes the twinge in his chest blossom into a full-blown sharpness, helped along by the fact that Zhengting has been acting more like a doting boyfriend than just a friend the entire afternoon.

“’Jun, you have something in your hair.” And he feels the older boy’s fingers suddenly in his hair, brushing whatever-it-is away, and blowing lightly upwards, his eyes wide in concentration. Wenjun hates that even the slightest gesture can make his stomach flip, make him forget that Zhengting has wronged him one too many times.

“Yes, yes, just like that.” The girl exclaims excitedly. “Wenjun, can you put your arm around Zhengting now? And move just a bit closer.” He obliges and catches his breath at just how snugly the older boy fits against his body as if he belongs there, Zhengting’s head tilting inwards slightly so that the other boy’s hair tickles his cheek. And Zhengting is so close that Wenjun can smell the scent of the other boy’s shampoo, a sweet fruity flavor that is pleasant for a few moments but becomes almost sickly the more he inhales.

How fitting for Zhengting.

“Could we have one of you two facing each other now?” The girl gestures at the two of them. “Maybe Wenjun, you could sort of look down at Zhengting? I want to get your side profiles.”

It hurts him to see Zhengting smiling up at him like he’s in love, as if Wenjun is the person he wants to see every day for the rest of their lives. And he knows Zhengting is only pretending for the sake of having the perfect pictures, but still. Still, he can’t help but ask the girl to send him the photos anyway, the snapshots a look at a seemingly perfect couple, Zhengting in a beautiful shade of blue and white, him in a deeper blue and grey, set down against a backdrop of green.

It looks like something out of a fairy tale, too good to be true.

\---

“I’m going to tell him.”

“Tell who, what?” Zeren stares at him as if he’s crazy. _Maybe I am._

“Zhengting. That I love him.”

“Oh boy. Should I give you condolences in advance for your life being FUBAR’d?”

Wenjun stares back at his friend blankly. “What does that even mean?”

“Fucked. Up. Beyond. All. Repair.” Zeren sighs. “I’d try to argue with you right now, but I don’t have the energy to be honest with you. Wiped out after helping Quanzhe and Xinchun move into their new apartment. But I’m glad they left that dump they were at before, so it’s worth it. When are you going to do it?” A pause. “And why now anyway? Not like you had years of opportunity to do this whole confession thing.” The sarcasm rolls off Zeren in waves, but Wenjun ignores the subtle dig.

“Because he’s been _nicer_ the past couple of weeks. Okay, don’t give me that look, Zeren. He _has_ been.”

Zeren’s tone is filled with skepticism. “Are you sure he’s not just in a good mood because of Xinchun’s birthday? You know he lives for putting on these big events.”

“No,” He insists. “He’s been acting really touchy and sort of more loving after the…” Wenjun coughs, embarrassed. “…you know.”

“Oh, you mean when you fucked him in the best sex of _your_ life but undoubtedly not the best of his?”

“Why do you have to be so mean all the time?”

“It’s funny you say that because Yanchen has been telling me that too, and he might be right admittedly. But in this case, it’s definitely just the truth no matter how much you want to deny it.”

“Oh, Yanchen.” Wenjun perks up at the mention of the other boy, who he really liked after only meeting him a few times in passing, with Zeren refusing to introduce the other boy to their whole group of friends _at least until I can be sure he won’t be scared off by all you crazy people._ “How are things working out with him?”

“Great. He loves me just as much as you wish Zhengting would ever love you.”

“I really hate you.”

“I know.”

_Yanjun’s party later tonight. Come over to get ready with me. <3_

Wenjun runs his hand through his hair, slightly stressed at the thought of seeing Zhengting now that he had made up his mind to tell the other boy. “It’s Zhengting. I gotta go. I’ll see you at Yanjun’s later, okay?”

“At least wait until after Xinchun’s birthday party so we all don’t have to deal with your mess!” Zeren yells after him as he rushes out the door.

Twenty minutes later and Wenjun is gaping at the whirlwind mess that is Zhengting’s room, seemingly with the older boy’s whole closet dumped out on the ground, covering every inch of available space. “’Jun, you’re here.” Zhengting smiles at him widely, the joint in between his fingers. “Want some?”

“No, uhhh, no thanks ‘Ting. Why is everything on the floor?”

“Because I couldn’t decide what to wear.” Zhengting states matter-of-factly. “And I wanted to look at everything at once so I could compare it to each other.”

Wenjun slowly starts picking up the clothes on the ground, slipping each piece on to a hangar to be put in the closet. “Just wear this ‘Ting.” He throws the outfit on to the bed. “You look great in this. And hurry up. We’re going to be late at the rate you’re getting ready.”

Zhengting takes a few more puffs, finishing the joint, laughing as he does so. _Getting high always makes him get like this._ “It doesn’t matter if we’re late. Yanjun doesn’t mind, and he’ll be too busy mooning over Zhangjing to notice that we’re not there yet.” The older boy’s face splits into a wide grin. “Besides, I still need to shower before leaving.”

“Have you showered yet?” The question seems all too convenient, and Wenjun stutters on the _no_ , the whole thing just making Zhengting laugh even more, giddy off his high. “Then just come shower with me, ‘Jun.” Wenjun swears that Zhengting purposely pushes his buttons, knowing the exact way to make him jump, even ask how high.

“I don’t need a shower, ‘Ting.”

“Yes, you do. And we’re going to be _late_ if we take turns.” Zhengting’s eyes dance with mirth, his voice teasing. “Come on, ‘Jun. It’s not like we haven’t showered together before when we were little. It’s not a big deal. What are you so scared of?”

_That I’ll fuck you again._

But he follows Zhengting into the shared bathroom anyway like a stupid pitiful shipwrecked sailor following a beautiful siren. Except in this case, Wenjun knows _e_ _xactly_ what he will be getting into with Zhengting. He only prays that Zeren doesn’t come back to the apartment before leaving for Yanjun’s, sparing him the inevitable furious lecture from the other boy. And he doesn’t say a word as the older boy undresses, willing himself to ignore Zhengting’s lithe and beautifully toned body as it comes into view, his skin having almost a pearly translucent sheen to it in the shitty lighting of the bathroom. The older boy’s back is to him, Zhengting not even giving him a glance as he hurriedly strips off his own clothes, climbing into the bathtub after the other boy, the jet of unexpectedly cold water making him gasp slightly. But the water turns hot quickly, and Zhengting is already scrubbing himself down methodically before Wenjun can even get the shampoo into his hair. _Maybe I’m safe for now._ Wenjun sighs inwardly, the thought of not having to face the monsters in his head right at this moment a welcome relief.

“Can you get my back, ‘Jun?”

Wenjun takes a shaky breath, one he hopes that Zhengting doesn’t hear, the sound of the water seemingly loud in his ears, and slowly accepts the body wash that the older boy passes back to him, their fingers touching briefly, making the pit of arousal curl in his groin at the smallest brush, their only physical contact since stepping into the shower. He squeezes out a coin-sized blob on to his palm, spreading it between his two hands before touching the older boy’s back, Zhengting’s muscles feeling taut beneath his hands, slowly drawing wide circles into the other boy’s skin, running his hands over every inch, moving down lower and lower. And his fingers splay out over Zhengting’s waist as he moves down, remembering the high of clutching at the older boy’s hips as he thrust into him from behind.

Zhengting’s perfect waist.

His hands tighten subconsciously at the thought, and Zhengting arches his back with a cry at the sudden movement. It takes all of Wenjun’s willpower to resist, resist the older boy’s impeccably tight ass pushes out towards him. Wenjun still gets jealous when he accompanies the other boy to the gym, seeing all the gazes drawn to staring at Zhengting’s ass whenever he bends over. _So unfair._ But resist he does, and Wenjun feels a spurt of pride well up inside of him, giving himself a pass for being completely and utterly hard right now, keeping a good step away from the other boy, hoping that Zhengting doesn’t turn around before he has a chance to will it away. And perhaps the pride comes a bit too soon because Zhengting does a little half-turn, almost as if he is about to ask Wenjun something, but he never gets the chance to. Because Wenjun feels it, feels his hand slide down somewhere it’s not supposed to the instant Zhengting twists, and he freezes.

Because Zhengting has a full-on erection.

And he is half-palming it.

It’s Zhengting’s half-pant, half-moan of his name that caves him.

_Wenjun._

And suddenly, he finds himself pressing Zhengting up against the wall, one hand tugging at the older boy’s cock as the other fumbles around with his own, trying to enter Zhengting as quickly as possible, gasping as the other boy reaches around with his hands to grab his cock in order to guide him. Zhengting cries out when Wenjun pushes in abruptly, almost a bit too roughly, fueled by nothing more than wanton lust, a need to fill the older boy, hooking Zhengting’s leg around his arm to get a better angle to drive into Zhengting with, causing the older boy to grab desperately at the slippery wall for purchase. And Wenjun fucks Zhengting, well and truly fucks him, until the older boy is sobbing for release, his hand tight around Zhengting’s cock, not allowing him relief. Not until the older boy begs him, begs to let him finish, the pleas giving him a vindictive satisfaction.

“Come for me.”

And Zhengting does the instant he says it, at the same time loosening his grip around the older boy’s cock, and Zhengting finishes hard and fast, the evidence quickly disappearing off the wall, nearly collapsing if not for Wenjun continuing to fuck him, his hands around the older boy’s waist steadying him. He finishes a few more strokes later to the sound of Zhengting’s pleasured moans, the other boy already half hard again after his first orgasm, thrusting in one final time as he comes, feeling Zhengting clenching erratically around his cock, the cum smearing over Zhengting’s thighs as he pulls out. They don’t speak as Wenjun cleans Zhengting out, his fingers moving inside the older boy to get rid of the stickiness, more than Wenjun realized there would be, letting the shower wash away anything left of his shame.

\---

“You made it!” Wenjun welcomes the hug from the smaller boy who launches into his arms as soon as he walks through the door, moving on to hug Zhengting after squeezing the air out of him. Zhangjing is all bright smiles and happiness, with his other half Yanjun making his way over to them after Wenjun gives a small wave. “Welcome, you two.” Yanjun smoothly slides in next to Zhangjing, and Wenjun feels a small twinge of jealousy as the taller boy casually wraps his arm around Zhangjing’s waist, the older boy leaning in naturally. _They look so happy._ Wenjun sneaks a glance at Zhengting, hoping he can tell what the older boy is thinking, but Zhengting has already turned away, chatting to Zeren and Yanchen animatedly, who seem to have popped up out of nowhere. He stifles a laugh when he sees Zeren, his face frozen seemingly into a grimace, Yanchen’s face showing confusion but nodding nevertheless to whatever Zhengting is saying.

“So how are you doing?” Zhangjing prods, giving him a sidelong glance that Wenjun can’t interpret.

“Errr, what do you mean?”

Zhangjing clicks his tongue impatiently. “Yanjun, go grab me another drink.”

The taller boy seems taken aback, his voice teasing. “Another? You’re going to pass out and fall asleep at your own party. You are terrible at holding your alcohol.” Zhangjing rolls his eyes, directing a piercing glare in Yanjun’s direction. “Just get me another drink, please?” Yanjun shakes his head fondly, ruffling the shorter boy’s hair, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away from Zhangjing’s _hmph_ of annoyance.

“When are you going to confess to Zhengting?”

Wenjun can’t hide the shock in his voice when he replies, wondering _how on earth_. “How do you know about that?”

Zhangjing looks at him sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, Zeren told Yanchen who told Xingjie who told Xiao Gui who told Yanjun. And I sort of twisted Yanjun’s arm until he told me.” The shorter boy chuckles. “Stupid idiot. He really thought I’d believe him when he told me Xiao Gui just wanted to ‘chat’ when he called at like one in the morning. Xiao Gui never calls Yanjun unless it’s something juicy.” Zhangjing gives him an apologetic look. “We haven’t told anyone else though.”

_Fuck you, Zeren._

“Uhhh, not sure when actually.” Wenjun replies weakly, the feeling of being backed into a corner overwhelming him. Funny how even though he was more than a head taller than Zhangjing, the other boy could still manage to make him feel small with just one look.

Or one eyebrow raise, which Zhangjing is currently doing.

“Well, seriously, don’t wait too long. I kept waiting and waiting for Yanjun to confess, but he never did. Lucky for him, I got tired of his bullshit and just confessed to him instead.” The older boy gives him another sympathetic look. “But you know Zhengting. He waits for no one.”

_Very true._

It doesn’t take long for him to spot Zhengting, per usual surrounded by a crowd of people, his hands gesturing as he talks. Wenjun makes his way over to the older boy and quietly takes a spot next to him, just catching the end of Zhengting’s story, ending in a punchline that makes everyone burst out laughing. He sips his drink slowly, enjoying the feeling of the other boy’s voice washing over him, letting himself relax and just _not think about it_ , not think about the fact that he’s made up his mind to confess, to tell Zhengting that he loves him so, so much that it’s eating him up slowly on the inside.

_A problem for another day._

Wenjun taps the other boy on the shoulder to get his attention, murmuring in Zhengting’s ear. “’Ting, let’s dance.” And Zhengting excuses them both, letting him lead them to the living room area, where there are a few couples turning round, leaning on each other, including Yanjun and Zhangjing, who gives him a way-too-obvious wink as they walk over. Zhengting laughs when Wenjun spins him, the older boy making a few extra turns for show, beaming up at him when Wenjun drops him into a low dip. And Zhengting’s smile is contagious, the happiness taking hold of him and painting a smile on his face. Wenjun holds his breath as Zhengting leans into him, the other boy’s head resting on his chest, their bodies pressed close together, and for the first time, it feels real, _intimate_ , and maybe Wenjun needs someone to pinch him to make sure he isn’t dreaming. They spend a few more songs swaying together, until Zhengting tilts his head up, looking at him with his bright eyes.

“I want another drink, ‘Jun.”

On impulse, he kisses Zhengting on the forehead. “Okay, be right back.” It takes him far too long to find the drinks, grumbling about Yanjun being the most disorganized person ever when he finally pinpoints where the beer is, snagging the last two cans that are cold still. And he is held up for a second time when he bumps into Zeren, hissing to his friend that _we need to talk later_ before listening to Yanchen tell the story of how they had met, somehow painting an incredibly inaccurate picture of Zeren, an alternate universe in which Zeren has a weakness for plushies and whimsical balloon animals. But Wenjun hides his smile behind one hand when he sees Zeren stare up at Yanchen adoringly, not wanting to break the news to the taller boy that the only thing Zeren had a soft spot for is Yanchen himself.

Wenjun finally manages to extract himself from the happy couple, trying to find his way back to Zhengting. And as he makes his way to the living room from the kitchen, he starts hearing shouts and hollers, a crowd clearly excited about something gathered in the middle of the room. “Excuse me, excuse me.” Wenjun pushes past people politely, wishing that everyone would just goddamn _move_ so he can get back to Zhengting, and when he finally breaks through to the front, the first thing he sees is Zhangjing, the older boy shaking his head at him frantically, a panicked expression on his face.

_What’s going on?_

But then he spots them, the two figures on the couch, the boy on top straddling the other, aggressively making out. And it takes him a minute to process it, takes him a minute to realize that the boy on top is wearing the exact same pants that Zhengting is, the material stretched tightly across a flawless ass that can only really belong to _one_ person. And after he realizes that, it takes him a second minute to realize that the hands groping Zhengting’s ass belong to someone he knows too, the bright blonde hair shocking him into recognition.

Xukun.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CC: [@loststickienote](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


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